


burning linen

by homelygrantaire



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7405984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homelygrantaire/pseuds/homelygrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse left. </p><p>Gone; without a word. His clothes are still stuffed into dresser drawers, a pack of menthol’s left abandoned on the counter, his smell still lingering on the sheets. If Tulip didn’t know the boy as well as she knew the curves of the revolver sitting in her back pocket, she would have thought he had gone for a drive. Out for a smoke. But Jesse Custer didn’t do things by halves, and the moment he had spoken of his father, she should have known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burning linen

 Jesse left. 

Gone; without a word. His clothes are still stuffed into dresser drawers, a pack of menthol’s left abandoned on the counter, his smell still lingering on the sheets. If Tulip didn’t know the boy as well as she knew the curves of the revolver sitting in her back pocket, she would have thought he had gone for a drive. Out for a smoke. But Jesse Custer didn’t do things by halves, and the moment he had spoken of his father, she should have **known**.  

So, he left. Gone to fulfill a promise to his father. To find his purpose.  

His _purpose_. As if that wasn’t one, and the same as hers. Or at least, it should have been. Ever since they saw that bastard peeling off in the distance they had been trying to find him. Jesse seemed as if he was on the same page, cursing the man as loudly as her, swearing on everything he loved that he’d make him pay but -  

He had been quiet. The last few days, he had stopped speaking. Seemed strange. He’d only left the motel room to get a bite of food, and then he’d just puff on a cigarette, morosely staring out the window seemingly as if all the spirit had left his body.  

Or - no.  Jesse was full of spirit. It leaked through his pores at any given time. Tired, maybe. Broken down. But his spirit clung on tight. Coiled taut, as if he was a giant cat slinking around ready to strike. Ready to sink it’s claws into you. Dangerous.  

Tulip hadn’t the time to pay attention however, hunting down contacts, and pulling favors just to get a **_whiff_** of the guy who had disappeared. Almost literally. No one had seen, or heard from him in weeks - like he was a goddamn ghost or apparition that had lost itself to the night.  

( As if they had _imagined_ him, or he had disappeared into the wind. ) 

Coming back from talking to one of her contacts, she had found Jesse the same way she left him; sitting at the table, puffing on a cigarette. From where she stood he looked lost - almost unsure as he wiped his hands against his jeans, fidgeting?, and stubbed out his cigarette against the table.  

She startles as he looks up, locked eyes with her. Words catch in her throat, dry up as his brown eyes burned into hers. Something feels off about his gaze, about the way he looks. Her gut twists - with foresight it was an warning. Her lips part to speak, licked her cracked lips; doesn’t know what she is going to say, but she’s never had to think about it before.  

But the moment is lost as he looks away, and pulls another cigarette out of the box. Lights it.  Maybe if she had looked closer, paid more attention she would have realised it was determination that was lining his form.  

But she hadn’t. And now he’s gone, and left her in some shitty town without even saying goodbye. 

Finding matches is easy enough. Maybe too easy. And drenching his belongings in kerosene, and lighting them on fire almost calms her, serene as it is. The fire warms her as she tosses everything that reminds her of Jesse in its maw.  

Watching their life going up in flames is as close to peace as she would ever get.  


End file.
